Numb
by JBKAF Productions
Summary: Following Chrismukkah, Kirsten starts to have trouble dealing. Will anyone see before it's too late?
1. 1

_Disclaimer: We don't own anything OC related.  
AN: Joey and I have been musing over the scene with Ryan in the water for days now and somehow along the way...this story came out. Here's the teaser. More to come. _

_

* * *

__God, it was so cold; he couldn't stop shivering. They'd shoved him in a holding cell for the night, still in his soaked clothes from the accident. The two beds had already been claimed by a couple of older men so he settled for the corner, leaning his weight heavily against the wall and sliding down onto the concrete floor. He lethargically pulled his knees into his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and did his best to create warmth._

_Kirsten. She was still unconscious when the ambulance had taken her away. He hoped he had found her in time; she had to have been in that water for a good twenty minutes; it had felt like so much longer. _

_He had begged the officers for information on her condition, but either they were ignoring him, or they couldn't understand him. He couldn't tell. Everything was blurry and he couldn't judge or react fast enough despite his best efforts. He knew they heard him ask for his lawyer, the larger officer behind the desk had grunted and nodded, handing Ryan a piece of paper to write down his attorney's name, but he'd elected to tell them instead, spelling out "Cohen" to avoid any "misunderstandings." But Ryan knew __Sandy__ had to go to Kirsten first. He'd come eventually, Ryan told himself. __Sandy__ would come and save him from this hell. _

_And he could wait for him…as long as Kirsten was okay. If she wasn't okay…if she wasn't okay…. He wouldn't think about that. He was too cold to process the guilt to think about that. _

_She'd be okay. She had to be okay._

* * *

She lifted the wine glass to her lips, savoring the sweet scent of the rich merlot before tipping the glass back and letting it flow across her tongue. It felt strange drinking in the bedroom – or at least drinking in the bedroom alone. She shrugged it off as best she could and focused on staring out the window, tracing the rim of the glass with her finger. 

She hadn't wanted to go to work, so she didn't. It used to be that she couldn't last an hour without worrying about work but lately, she was finding that she cared less and less about her career responsibilities.

Her Dad was on top of the world again, the smiling spokesman of the Newport Group with his pride and joy, Julie Cooper, on his arm as CEO at every event and in every photo shoot. Sandy had quipped that Julie Cooper should never be given an executive name that starts with the word "chief;" the world was barely large enough for her ego as it was.

Kirsten had begun to hate going to the office – seeing the way people looked at her, like she was second best. Why else would Julie be heading the corporation after only a few months of marriage when Kirsten had been busting her ass to run that company for years? It had become crystal clear that no matter what she did or how hard she worked or what extraordinary profits she turned, she would never be good enough for her father.

She wished she could hate him more.

But he was her father and he was trying to save his marriage.

At least they called it a marriage. Kirsten knew the truth. Jimmy had confided in her a few weeks back. She was well aware of the fact that Julie had been fucking Jimmy for the past three months. But Jimmy had begged her not to tell Caleb, so she didn't. She didn't tell a soul. Instead, she stayed home from work. She drank wine in the bedroom and stared out the window. Hating her father was actually getting easier.

She couldn't look Julie in the face anymore. The smirk on her face, the hypocritical mask that she wore was too much for Kirsten and she'd have to fight not to gag or throw a punch or do something exceedingly dramatic with another vase.

It was all too much. She couldn't go to work.

Staying home wasn't much better. Sandy was never home. He was trying to get his fledging law office off the ground and she rarely saw him before midnight. Every night she sat up and waited for him, reading a book but unable to focus on the blurry words and lengthy sentences. He'd stroll in with heavy eyelids and messy hair, methodically strip down to his boxers and crawl into bed beside her, too tired, worn or simply uninterested to carry on a conversation.

She couldn't be mad, or allow herself to feel unwanted. Sandy had lost his job because of her father. He had to do what he had to do, and even though things were rough in the upstart, he was happy. He deserved it. He shouldn't be stuck at home with Kirsten and her misery anyway.

Seth had settled back into Newport, finally. He seemed happy for the few moments she got to spend with him in the morning. He babble on about being friends with Summer and about dating a spitfire named Alex. Back to normal after his absence.

And Ryan was happy, too. He'd started dating Kirsten's new sister, Lindsay. Or he'd been dating, she wasn't really sure. But they were good together. Lindsay probably would have never accepted her place in their strange family if Ryan hadn't been here to help her through. They were a nice couple.

Kirsten saw Ryan and Lindsay more than the rest of her family. Ryan was almost always home – cooking for Lindsay or studying with her in the poolhouse. It was nice to see Ryan acting like a normal teenager instead of an adult.

She knew he was worried about her, though.

Last night, after polishing off a near-full bottle of wine, she'd fallen asleep on the patio. Much to her surprise, she'd awakened in her bed. Sandy hadn't come home yet, so she knew that Ryan had to be the one who'd carried her inside.

He hadn't mentioned it to her yet and for that she was grateful. She didn't want to have to explain herself to him; she didn't want him to think he had to take care of her.

She didn't want him to tell on her either. It sounded childish and immature but Kirsten felt like she was a seven-year-old child who had been sneaking cookies from the cookie jar. It was accepted, but also forbidden. She knew she was drinking more than she ever had in the past, but she wasn't in trouble. She was just "down." She'd come back up. She just needed some time to come to terms with the changing dynamics in her life.

She stopped her finger, suddenly aware of the echoing hum coming off of the crystal. She finished the last sip, this time swallowing quickly, not allowing the rich liquid to dance across her taste buds before swallowing. She reached over for the bottle, pulled out the cork and refilled her glass.

* * *

"Ryan?" Lindsay said his name quietly when he walked through the door leading into the kitchen. 

"Yeah?" he asked skeptically, pulling up beside her and linking his hands together on the counter, pulling at his fingers. He looked nervous, like he knew he was preparing for a lecture or something. He hadn't done anything wrong, though. He'd just put Kirsten to bed again.

"Does she always drink…this much?" Lindsay asked. She was falling in love with Ryan and she hated seeing the way he instantly looked up at her – a flash of hurt crossing his face. She liked Kirsten a lot; Lindsay thought she was a great mother and a great woman. But over the past couple of weeks, more often than not, Kirsten had been drunk before nine pm and Lindsay could see that it was affecting Ryan. She hated watching him try to deal with it. She hated watching Kirsten deal with it.

"No," he answered quietly, his eyes flickering around the room as he spoke. "Only lately. She's been pretty upset about…things. She'll be better when Sandy's around more," he finished slowly, nodding at the end in satisfaction, like he'd just convinced himself.

Lindsay sighed and leaned into him, their shoulders touching, trading warmth and comfort. "You…it really bothers you, doesn't it? To see her drink?" she asked, reaching over and pulling his hands apart, lacing her fingers through his.

Eventually, he turned into her, pulling her into his arms.

"I don't like seeing her like that," he said into the top of her head. She smiled when his breath warmed her scalp. "She's…she's always been so strong."

"So, drinking…it makes her weak?" Lindsay mumbled, trying to grasp where Ryan's stance was on this matter.

"No, no, not like that. It's just…she shouldn't have to drink to get by, you know? It's like a crutch or something."

Lindsay nodded, her cheek brushing against the soft cotton of his wife beater. He was always so soft – so comfortable.

"My mom…she drank a lot…constantly, actually. I can only remember a few times when she was completely sober. And I know that Kirsten's nothing like my mother, but anything that reminds me of that time in my life…it bothers me, I guess," he finished in a whisper, like the recollection alone had drained him of all emotional strength.

Lindsay tightened her grip around his waist in silent understanding. "Have you told Sandy?"

"She…she swears she's fine. I can't tell on her. She'll tell him when she's ready."

* * *

"Caleb?" Julie called, dropping her bag on the table with a thump. 

"In the office, JuJu," he answered from his office.

She walked toward the room and he immediately turned in his chair, setting down his newspaper and walking over. He placed a hand on the small of her back and laid a kiss on her cheek. "Where've you been all day? You missed the board meeting and we were supposed to have dinner together --"

"I was at the doctors," she interrupted.

His face was immediately lined with worry. "Is everything all right?"

Julie did her best to swallow the butterflies that were fumbling in her stomach and climbing up into her throat. "Well," she said quietly, looking up to meet his eyes, "I have some news. Hopefully…it's good news."

He showed signs of a faint smile, but fear of the unknown was obviously holding him back. He waited patiently for her to continue.

"I…I'm pregnant," she blurted out finally. The words seemed to echo off the four walls of the large office, causing the statement to play over and over again in Julie's head. She shut her eyes tight, waiting for Caleb to say something, but he didn't. She was relieved that his hand was still on her back but realized that could easily be because he was having some sort of stroke that was rendering him immobile.

She pried her eyes open slowly, lifting her gaze to search his face, but found she couldn't quite read his expression. It looked at first like surprise, and then maybe confusion, he appeared to settle on…nothing. He was completely blank.

"You're pregnant," he repeated, staring past Julie.

His hand slipped off her back and the butterflies began to flutter up a storm.

"I know, I'm a little old to be thinking about having more kids" Julie rushed out, rambling through her panic, "but I'd love to have your baby, Cal --"

"It's not mine," he stated flatly.

"What?" she yelled immediately, placing her hands on her hips. He didn't know about her fling with Jimmy, they'd made sure of that, she'd made Jimmy swear not to tell anyone, especially not Kirsten or Sandy. There was no way Caleb could know, so she was damn well going to be pissed off by his accusations.

"It's not mine," he reiterated, finally meeting her eyes. "Which begs the question, who have you been seeing?" His voice was even but the anger in his understated expression crystal clear.

"I…how the hell do you know it's not yours?" Julie shot back incredulously.

"I had a vasectomy after the…whole Lindsay accident. And again I ask, who have you been seeing?"

Julie felt a rush of heat surge through her body, and she prayed her make-up was preventing her face from turning crimson.

How could she not have known? He was old; of course he'd have had a vasectomy. It was, like, mandatory after 60 or something….

"Julie?"

"I haven't been seeing anyone else, Cal," she answered defensively. Lying just came so naturally to her. Sometimes she even found it difficult to tell the truth.

"Liar. I think you should leave. I'll have Sandy contact your lawyer in the morning," he said flatly, turning his back and walking back toward his desk.

"Caleb, it's…," Julie tried to stall, but she couldn't even think up an excuse. That never happened. This certainly was not supposed to happen.

"Don't lie to me anymore, Julie. Don't. Just get out," he said, picking up the phone and starting to dial.

Julie huffed loudly, spinning on her heel and storming out the door.

* * *


	2. 2

From her pool-side chair, Kirsten glared at the phone that lay on the table beside her as it rang. Ryan and Lindsay were in the kitchen working on a physics project and they were obviously too immersed in their academia to walk over to answer the phone in the kitchen. Finally, after the second ring, Kirsten set down her glass of wine and lazily picked it up, squinting at the tiny screen in an attempt to read the number. The screen didn't light up bright enough and the number was unreadable, but she decided to answer it anyway. Maybe it was Sandy telling her he was going to be home for a late dinner. She missed him.

"Hello?"

"Kiki? It's your dad."

"Hey, Dad. What's going on?" she asked unenthusiastically. She switched ears before he could respond, reaching over and retrieving her drink for the table.

"I…Julie's been cheating on me," he sputtered. "She says she's pregnant. I know you never approved of the marriage, Kiki, but I really cared about her." His voice was distant and unlike anything she'd ever heard from her father before.

"Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry," she said sincerely, amazed at how quickly her temporary dislike for her father could dissipate.

"She's pregnant. That's the only reason I know. She came in expecting me to be overjoyed…but I've had a vasectomy. It's not my child. How could I have been so wrong about her?" He was rambling, and Kirsten knew her father didn't ramble. He needed someone, and she was the only person he had left. She had to be there for him.

"Dad, I'm coming over. Are you at home?"

"I made her leave. I'm at home. Marissa's out. It's just me."

"I'll be right there, okay?" She hung up the phone and got to her feet. She felt herself swaying, but she wasn't drunk. She'd only had a few glasses of wine since lunch. Or for lunch. Whatever. She wasn't drunk and her dad needed her.

She opened the door to the house and paused by the counter, setting her glass down with a soft clink. Ryan and Lindsay looked up from their stenciling and regarded her with surprise.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked. Sometimes she wondered how he could read people so well; he always seemed to know when something was wrong.

"It's my dad, he's having…a crisis," Kirsten answered, running a hand through her hair and feeling the tension in her scalp.

"Is he all right?" Lindsay asked quietly.

She kept forgetting that her father was Lindsay's father, too. "He's fine, I just need to go see him," Kirsten replied with a fake smile. She grabbed the keys off the counter and started for the front door.

"Will you tell Sandy that I'm over there?" she called out loudly, directing the question to Ryan with a glance over her shoulder. She was surprised to see that he was following her to the door.

"Are you going to drive?" he asked.

"Of course I'm going to drive. How else would I get there?" She grabbed her coat and swung open the front door, striding toward the Rover.

"Kirsten, let me drive you," he said when she reached for the door handle.

She met his gaze and earnestly tried to plea her case. "Ryan, I'm fine. I'm not drunk. I'm fine to drive."

His eyes widened and she couldn't help but think he looked like a lost puppy, begging for someone to take him home. Kirsten could see Lindsay hovering in the open doorway. She looked away when Kirsten looked up, obviously uncomfortable.

"Please. Please, Kirsten. I won't go in with you, I won't say anything. Just please let me drive you," Ryan pleaded, placing a hand on her arm and regaining her attention.

She was startled by the gesture. He rarely touched anyone except Lindsay or Seth. She met his blue eyes with a steady gaze. "I'm fine, Ryan."

"You're upset. Don't make me get upset. Let me drive you," he said quietly.

She didn't know why she agreed but eventually she admitted defeat, dropping the keys into his open palm.

* * *

Everything happened so fast that Ryan couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, set her off.

He was driving the speed limit and listening to the lowered sounds of Stevie Ray Vaughn on the radio when suddenly she started talking.

"I bet you think that I'm going to be a drunk just like your mother. I'm nothing like your mother." The words weren't spiteful, or defensive, but just simply a statement.

"What?" Ryan had to respond. He'd never spoken to Kirsten about her drinking and he'd never spoken to her about his mom's drinking – only to Lindsay and only in private.

"I see the way you look at me. Like I'm some kind of alcoholic, like I'm having a breakdown or something. I'm not your mother, Ryan." She turned to face the window, finishing with a whisper, "I promise."

"I know," he muttered, his disbelief quite clear in his delivery. "I've never said--"

"You don't have to say it." Her voice was getting louder, and Ryan's heart was starting to beat faster. He didn't like where this was going. "God, Ryan, you never say anything important, but it's written all over your face. You think I have a drinking problem. Just say it."

But he couldn't say it. Maybe because he didn't really want to believe it, but he surely wasn't going to let his denial result in letting Kirsten drive drunk.

"Kirsten, I just worry about you sometimes." Her voice was rising with every outburst and he felt the sudden urge to crack a window. He was starting to feel claustrophobic.

"Well, I don't need your concern. I'm supposed to be your parent; you're not supposed to be worrying about me. I want you to pull over," she said suddenly.

Ryan shifted his foot from the gas to the brake, but didn't slow down when he turned to look at her. If she was going to be sick or something, he would pull over, but he wasn't going to allow her to just take off into the night.

"Kirsten," he said, trying to understand.

"No. Pull over, Ryan. I am ordering you to pull over."

She didn't look sick, and he wasn't going to let this happen. She wasn't thinking straight. He wished Sandy had been home…. He needed to reason with her.

He took one hand off the wheel and motioned through the window. "We're on a bridge, Kirsten."

"I don't care. Pull this car over, now!"

"I'll stop as soon as we're over," he started calmly, but was cut short when she leaned over and grabbed at the wheel.

He tried to turn his shoulder to block her, but she was too quick. He slammed on the brake but they had too much momentum. The car jerked hard to the right, bouncing off the guardrail. The cracking sound of metal snapping and the squeal of the brakes were deafening. He tried to pry her hand off the wheel, but his palms were slick with sweat, causing him to lose his grip.

When his hand slipped off the wheel, the car turned rapidly. The front of the Rover folded up like an accordion before it crashed through the cement guardrail and plunged over the edge toward the ocean.

Kirsten screamed, scrambling for her door handle, and Ryan instinctively reached out for her, his fingers grazed the fabric of her sleeve but were unable to clutch onto anything to keep her from jumping. When the SUV made contact with the ocean, Ryan was alone.

* * *

Ryan braced himself, pushing his head back into the headrest as the Rover plunged into the water at the awkward angle. He gasped when he was propelled forward, his chest crushed against his seatbelt, the air forced from his lungs. Water slapped against the windows as it quickly rose and threatened to come inside - to take away all the air. Ryan told himself not to panic, but the pounding of his heart was overpowering the sound of the water.

Icy liquid was rushing through the open, passenger-side door; the Rover was slowly sinking sideways. Ryan reached for his seatbelt, his hands fumbling with the latch for a few agonizing seconds before he was able to release himself.

Water had crept up his legs, waist and now was dancing around his neck, numbing his skin upon contact. He didn't have much time. He scrambled free from the restricting seatbelt, and blindly ran his hand across the panel of the door, searching for his door handle. He desperately pulled the handle back, but it wouldn't budge. He banged against it with his shoulder, the panic building when he felt the water crawling up to his chin. He would have to go out the other door. Quickly.

He forced his hyperventilating lungs to expand enough to accept the large intake of air before diving into the water that was rapidly filling the final section of the car. He pushed off the window with his feet, propelling himself downward into the dark, freezing ocean.

The cold wrapped around his head and caused bright, sharp bolts of lightening to form behind his eyelids. This had to be the true definition of "brain freeze."

He somehow managed to maneuver out the open door and into the darkness. The car had been spinning, causing him to lose his bearings. He kicked hard toward what he assumed was the surface, but with no sunlight of any sort, he just prayed he was kicking in the right direction. His lungs ached and screamed against the pressure when his body almost instantaneously used up all of its oxygen reserves.

_Please let the surface be near. Please…. _

Finally, just when he was ready to admit defeat, his head broke the surface. He gasped and kicked to stay afloat, but despite his best efforts, waves splashed over top of him - the water invading his mouth and getting sucked into his lungs along with the much-needed air. He coughed and sputtered, forcing his frozen limbs to work harder - to keep him afloat long enough to breathe or at least alleviate the ache in his chest.

_It's too cold. Kirsten. It's too cold._

He kicked as hard as he could, craning his neck around so he could scan the surface of the choppy water.

_Shit. Kirsten. Where the fuck are you, Kirsten._

He wanted to scream her name, but couldn't. He was too cold. The ocean was winning. But he couldn't give up. Kirsten was in worse shape. She needed him.

With one last burst of energy, he kicked up again, and this time, he saw it. A pink flash to his left.

Without even thinking, he started swimming toward the color, surprising himself with the sudden burst of power. But the current was strong, forcing him backward and pushing him away from her.

He was getting closer – twenty feet or so – just a few feet that felt like a mile and a half.

He pushed harder – kicked harder. Every now and then, he'd look up, relieved to see he was getting closer. He'd turn his back to the waves so he could breathe some clean air before continuing forward.

He felt like he'd been swimming for years, his body was completely numb. But he was almost there. He could do this. He had to do this.

When he finally reached her, he couldn't feel the entire lower half of his body. But it must have been working because he'd gotten to her. Now he just had to bring her back. He could hear himself gasping for air, but he had to do it. He wasn't going to let this be the end - be her end.

She was floating face-down, and he immediately flipped her over. She was tinted blue - freezing cold. He had to get her to shore.

He looped his arm hers, kicking a few steps toward his destination while looking back to make sure her head wasn't immersed in the water.

Satisfied, he started the journey to shore. Much to his surprise, even with Kirsten's added weight, the trip to shore was much easier than it had been when he was going the other direction.

After several minutes of focusing entirely on methodically kicking and swimming forward with his one free arm, he looked up. He could see red, flashing lights, and he aimed for them, unable to focus on anything else. Finally, he felt ground beneath his feet. People were rushing out toward him, but he wouldn't stop. Kirsten needed to get out of the cold. She needed help. She wasn't awake. She was so cold.

"We got her, we got her," one guy in a white shirt said loudly, taking Kirsten up into his arms and rushing toward the flashing lights on dry land.

"You okay, sir?"

Ryan turned around, suddenly aware that he was standing in waist-deep water, simply watching as Kirsten and her savior were swallowed up by the collage of flashing lights.

A man in blue…all blue, was standing beside him.

"Take care of her…she was under for a few minutes," Ryan muttered, continuing forward, unable to fight the lure of the dry, warm sand that was only feet away. As he got closer, followed by the man in blue, he could see the medics working fervently on Kirsten, throwing blanket upon blanket on top of her lifeless body which lay on the gurney.

"She's breathing, she's just unconscious…are you her son?" the white-shirted man asked when Ryan approached.

"No," he mumbled, clearing his throat as it began to thaw out, giving him his voice back. "I was driving and she grabbed the wheel, I couldn't stop the car from going over…" he finished breathlessly.

"Whose car is it?" the man in blue asked.

"It's her car, is she all right?" Ryan demanded.

"Come over here, son; we'll take care of her." The officer pulled him over to his squad car, but not before accepting a blanket from one of the medics and draping it around Ryan's shoulders.

"Do you have any ID on you?"

Ryan managed to pull his soaked wallet from his back pocket with numb fingers, handing it to the man in blue. The cop opened it up and pulled out Ryan's driver's license, leaving Ryan standing beside the car alone, clutching onto the blanket trying to steal its warmth.

The cop stalked back toward Ryan after several minutes. "You have a record…you stole a car? Did you steal this woman's car, boy?" he demanded.

"No, she's my…."

"You better not say anything else until we get your lawyer down here. Because you're not on her insurance according to the registration we got from her purse…so either tell me the truth now or we're taking you in."

"I didn't steal…."

"Okay, that's enough. You have the right to remain silent, if you choose to waive those rights, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court," he started.

Ryan was too cold to argue. He watched as the medics loaded Kirsten into the ambulance, closing the doors just before it started pulling away. She had to be okay. Sandy would never forgive him if he hurt her - he'd never forgive himself.

"Get in the car, kid. We'll call your lawyer from the station."


	3. 3

"Hello?" Lindsay hesitantly answered the Cohens' phone on the third ring. She had been pacing the living room for over an hour, waiting for Ryan to come back from delivering Kirsten to Caleb…or her father. That was still so weird.

"Lindsay, thank God you're still there…." Ryan's voice was cracking and unstable, and a lump instantly formed in Lindsay's throat when she assumed he'd been crying. What the hell had happened at Caleb's?

"I thought you were coming back, what's going on?"

"I need you to do me a favor. There's been an accident." But he wasn't crying; he was just shaking. Maybe shivering. She couldn't really tell.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said quietly, inhaling shakily. "They took me to the police station…something stupid about me having a record and…it doesn't matter. Kirsten's in the hospital, they wouldn't tell me anything and--"

"Honey, slow down," Lindsay said, shaking her head in confusion. Why was he at the police station? "You're in jail and Kirsten's at the hospital? I thought you were driving--"

"I was," he interrupted. "She flipped out, tried to grab the wheel and we crashed."

Lindsay raised a hand to her mouth, gasping in shock. Her heart instantly began to race – her chest tightening.

"Oh God…is she…?"

"I don't know," he groaned. Through her panic, she couldn't focus hard enough to ask Ryan what had happened to him. "Can you get in touch with Caleb and Sandy? Don't tell them that she was drinking. God, that would just be more explaining…. Just get someone to go be with her. God, I hope she's okay. And Seth, you have to find Seth," he murmured, but he was making little sense. Why was he making no sense?

"What about you?" she finally asked when she could get her mouth and brain to work in unison again.

"I'm sure they'll release me as soon as they know what's going on. If Sandy needs to be with Kirsten, then…maybe he can call down here and tell them that I didn't steal the damned car – that I live there…. Just…can you take care of things?" He sounded like he was fading and Lindsay could feel her panic increasing. Suddenly, she was responsible for a whole lot of things that she wasn't sure she was going to remember when she hung up.

"I'll call them, Ryan," she said into the phone with a nod, steeling herself as best she could. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine."

She nodded again, but she didn't believe him. "I'll send someone for you as soon as I can," she promised.

"Call Seth. He's probably with Alex, but he has to be there, too. Make sure you find him, okay?"

She nodded again, and when she tasted blood, she suddenly realized how hard she was biting her lip. "I'll take care of it, Ryan."

* * *

Sandy and Caleb almost knocked each other down rushing into the ER.

"Who called you?" Sandy asked, not slowing down in the slightest.

"Lindsay. Kirsten was on her way to see me and Lindsay said that Ryan was with Kirsten and that there was an accident. I don't know why Ryan was with her but if he hurt her, I swear…," Caleb said with a shake of his head, his face pale with worry and uncertainty.

They stopped at the admit desk, and Sandy waved a hand in the air, flagging down one of the nurses. "Ryan wouldn't hurt her," he said sternly. "The cops didn't say anything about Ryan, they just said there was an accident." Sandy turned his attention to the nurse who was now within earshot. "We're looking for Kirsten Cohen, some officers called--"

"Mr. Cohen?" An officer called from behind. He was standing by the wall with another nurse.

Sandy didn't wait for the other nurse to respond, but rushed past the desk and toward the officer. "Yes, yes, where's my wife, is she okay?" Sandy demanded.

"Your wife was in a car accident. She was thrown from the car into the water when the SUV went off a bridge," he stated calmly.

"She was thrown _from_ the car?" Caleb asked, putting a hand on Sandy's shoulder for support.

"Yes, sir. Apparently she had been carjacked. A young man was driving the car; he managed to get her to shore and saved her life." The officer looked down at his notepad for a second, then nodded and looked back up.

Sandy found himself speechless.

"Carjacked?" Caleb asked with obvious confusion.

"They have the man in custody," the officer nodded. "He's waiting for--"

"But her foster son was with her, Ryan Atwood; was he hurt?" Sandy asked when things simply weren't adding up.

The officer stared at him for a few silent seconds, his mouth slightly agape. "Foster son?" he finally whispered.

Sandy sighed impatiently. Why didn't this guy know anything? "Yes, Ryan. He was supposed to be driving. His girlfriend said that he was driving when they left," Sandy said, even more confused and worried than when he'd had no information at all.

"I…he's not on your insurance. He said it wasn't his car and he has a record of car theft so we…," the officer stammered, flipping through his notebook.

Caleb took a step forward, removing his hand from Sandy's shoulder. "You arrested him? You just said he saved her life and you took him to jail?" Caleb shouted angrily. This time, Sandy placed his hand on Caleb's shoulder, simply to restrain him if need be.

The officer dropped his hands to his sides, abandoning the notebook for the time being and taking a step backward. The nurse, who'd been silent up to this point, stepped in. "Your wife is going to be fine," she said softly, directing the information to Sandy. "She has mild hypothermia but she wasn't injured in the car crash. She has a pretty high blood alcohol level which probably contributed to the hypothermia but she's…she's very lucky to be alive. Would you like to see her?"

Sandy nodded and the nurse started down the hall. Sandy stayed back for a second, leaning in close to the officer and raising a finger. "You better get Ryan out of that jail before I file a lawsuit that will render you jobless," he growled. "I want to talk to him now. If I find out that you--"

"Sandy. Go see Kirsten," Caleb interrupted. "I'll make sure he follows up. I'll be in as soon as I find out that Ryan's safe."

"Are you sure?" Sandy asked, torn between the two people who need him most right now.

"Go," Caleb insisted. "It'd kill her if anything happened to the boy."

Sandy gave an appreciative nod before jogging down the hall to catch up with the nurse.

* * *

"Guard? I think you should come see this," Larry slurred through the bars of the holding cell. Once again, Larry had been brought in by one of the officers to dry out overnight.

"What's it this time?" The cop tossed his magazine onto the desk in frustration. He'd only been on for fifteen minutes and already Larry was grating on his nerves. The drunks never just shut up and paid their dues silently; they always had to draw attention to themselves with unsubstantiated whining.

"This…fuck…." Larry shook his head, pointing toward the dark corner, his hand – mostly covered by an old, holey glove – was shaking with withdrawal tremors. "He looks like a kid," Larry continued with concern. "He's, like, twitching and stuff. He's…he's been shiverin' or somethin' since you brought him in and I thought it would stop, ya know? But he looks pretty bad off."

The cop frowned, pushed out his chair and slowly approached the cell, squinting to see through the darkness. It wasn't unheard of for Larry to make up stories, but as much as the cop didn't believe the drunk, he couldn't just ignore him when he said stuff like that.

"He didn't wake up when I kicked him," Larry said after a few seconds. His breath was ripe with liquor, but there was definitely a kid balled up in the corner and he was definitely shaking.

"See? I told ya," Larry slurred, a lopsided grin forming on his dirt-smeared face.

The cop immediately reached for the keys on his belt, calling over his shoulder for some help before pushing Larry back and entering the cell.

The old metal bed frames creaked when bodies stirred at the sudden commotion. He cautiously walked over to the huddled, shaking figure, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder and down the hall. He was relieved to see that help was fast approaching.

"Is he all right?" Larry asked from over the cop's left shoulder – a little too close for comfort.

"Just stand back," the cop urged quietly. Two other officers joined him in the cell, but allowed him to approach first.

He kneeled beside the kid's hunched form. He was most definitely just a kid. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

He pulled out his flashlight and shone it in the kid's face, startled by the light-blue tone of his skin.

"What's going on, Murphy? D'you want me to call for EMS?"

He just nodded, and heard the instant crackle of a radio as his colleague called for medical help.

He reached out and placed a hand on the kid's shoulder. His clothes were damp – no, wet – and freezing to the touch. At the physical contact, the kid sluggishly opened his. They were hazy and unfocussed for a few seconds, but finally the cop saw a change in the kid's pupils as he began to adjust to his surroundings. "What? Is my lawyer…?"

"Uh…no. I mean, not yet." The kid's eye-lids drooped, but the cop couldn't tell if it was out of disappointment or exhaustion. He turned to one of his fellow officers. "He's freezing. Can you see if you can find any blankets or anything?"

When he turned back to the kid, his eyes were completely closed. "Hey. Hey, kid. Try to stay awake with me, okay?"

The kid let out a shaken sigh, but otherwise did not respond.

The cop sat back on his heels and ran a hand over his worried face. All other occupants of the cell were completely quiet, and the only sound was the short, shivering breaths from the freezing kid. The cop stood up and glanced through the bars, mumbling under his breath, "Where the hell is EMS…?"

* * *

"Seth! Thank God! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Lindsay pushed past Summer ignoring the fact that she was clinging to a sheet wrapped around her body, and rushed to Seth's side.

"Lindsay. Hey, what are you doing here?" Seth asked loudly, his eyes wide with shock. He kept his gaze set on her as he scrambled through the rumpled sheets, finally emerging with a shirt and slipping it over his head in a rush.

"It's your mom, and Ryan, there was an accident and she's in the hospital and he called me from jail but now Caleb says that he's on his way to the hospital too and he made me promise that I'd find you," Lindsay spat out in one big breath, aware that her voice was cracking with emotion near the end. She desperately tried to blink back the hot tears that were stinging her eyes.

"An accident? Lindsay, is Mom..?" Seth stammered, suddenly motionless and confused.

"I don't know, Seth. I just know that we have to go. Now," Lindsay said urgently. Several tears had somehow escaped, but she fought to keep the majority of her emotional barriers intact. She'd promised Ryan she would do this. She wasn't going to fall apart now.

"You have to slow down, Lindsay. What happened?" Summer asked calmly. Lindsay wanted to smack her for being so composed. How could she be composed? This was a nightmare come to life.

Lindsay took a shaky breath, frustrated that she had to waste time explaining herself because they couldn't just trust her and follow. "Ryan was driving Kirsten to Caleb's. I don't know what happened but she insisted on going to see him and Ryan was driving her there. And then he calls, from jail, and says that there was an accident and the stupid cops thought he stole the car so he couldn't be with your mom and he wanted me to call Sandy and Caleb and to find you. I called Caleb, Sandy already knew and then I left to try and find you." She took another deep breath before continuing, waving her cell phone in the air. "Caleb just called and he said that they're taking Ryan to the hospital now, too, and everyone's looking for you and I didn't know where else you would be so I came here and Summer's mom let me in…." She searched Seth's face for a reaction, breathless from her rant and suddenly feeling a little unsteady on her feet. She looked to Summer and back to Seth again.

"Come on, let's go," Seth finally spoke, his own voice strained and uneven, making Lindsay feel slightly less like a hysterical drama queen.

"Grandpa would have told you if it was serious," he said quietly, conspicuously slipping on his jeans under the duvet. "They're probably just taking him to the hospital so he can be with Mom…."

"You think?" Lindsay asked, turning away when Seth lifted his ass off the bed to pull his jeans up to his waist. They were related, after all.

"Yeah," Seth nodded unconvincingly to himself, swallowing thickly and hopping off the bed. "I'm sure that's it." He looked up to meet her gaze. "You driving?"

Lindsay nodded quickly, leading the way to the door. She turned to Summer as she walked past. "Sorry for the…interruption…."

"It's fine," Summer replied in a whisper, her face instantly blushing. "Cohen…call me when you know something, okay?"

"Uh huh," Seth answered, grabbing Lindsay's hand and pulling her through the hall, down the stairs, through the front door and into the driveway where Lindsay's car was waiting.

Seth climbed into the passenger seat, simultaneously pulling out his phone and turning it on. He rapidly punched in a number as Lindsay navigated her way into traffic, toward the hospital.

Seth was tapping his free hand off his knee, and whoever he was calling appeared to be unavailable. "Your dad's phone is off because he's with your mom, you should try Caleb," Lindsay said as she suddenly started recalling bits and pieces of the many conversations she'd had in the past twenty minutes. She maneuvered into the left lane and pressed down on the gas as she sped past a line of vehicles going the speed limit.

"Thanks," Seth said, ending the call. He stared at his phone for a few seconds. "I don't know Grandpa's cell phone number." He sounded so sad and defeated that it spurred another round of tears behind Lindsay's eyes. She blinked them back and did her best to focus on driving.

"We're only a few minutes away, Seth," she tried to reassure him when she finally felt she'd regained control of her rampant emotions.

He dropped his phone onto his lap and leaned his head back against the headrest. "What the hell happened? Why was Ryan driving with my Mom? Where were you?" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him staring at her, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead and on the road.

"We have this huge project due tomorrow and I was at the house…."

"But why did she have to go to Grandpa's with Ryan?"

"I don't know, Seth." Her voice was a little too loud, and she had to tell herself to calm down. "I don't know."

"Why was he driving?" Seth was anything if not persistent.

She didn't answer. She wasn't sure she could answer.

"Lindsay?"

"He…." No. She promised Ryan.

"What?" Seth demanded. "Why was Ryan driving my mom to Grandpa's?"

"He made me promise not to…." Her eyes were filled with tears, causing the road to blur in front of her. She had to let them fall. She wasn't going to be responsible for a couple more family members being hospitalized.

"Tell me," Seth said sternly. "Ryan will understand. God…," he groaned in exasperation, turning to face the front again. She had to tell him. He deserved to know.

"She was drunk…she's always drunk," Lindsay whispered, sniffling through her emotions. "He didn't want her driving and somehow he convinced her to let him drive. I don't know what happened on the way."

"Oh God…," Seth murmured as Lindsay turned into the hospital's entrance. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she made the right decision.

* * *

"Mmm," Kirsten moaned, stirring for the first time since Sandy had pulled up a chair next to her bed.

"Kirsten?" he whispered hopefully, gently touching the tips of his fingers to her chin.

"Sandy?" She listlessly opened her eyes and blinked away the drowsiness.

"I'm right here, honey. How do you feel?"

"It's cold…. Where…where am I?" she asked, scanning the room tiredly.

"You're in the hospital. There was an accident." He took her hand in his under the thick blankets, running his thumb back and forth over her chilled skin.

"Hospital?" She started to sit up but he held her down with his other hand.

"Shh. Just relax."

Her eyes drifted off from Sandy, as she stared into nothingness for an extended period of time. Sandy was just about to press the call button when she finally spoke. "Oh God…."

He squeezed his fingers around hers, praying he could take away the horrid memories that could make her look so stricken and lost. "Do you remember anything?"

She turned to him, her blue eyes wide, frightened and glistening with tears. "Is Ryan all right?"

Sandy looked down, staring at the white, cotton sheets while his mind raced to come up with an answer. "He's --"

"It wasn't his fault," she sputtered. "Oh God…."

"Why was he driving, Kirsten?" Sandy asked gently, raising his eyes once again.

"I…I was drinking," she confessed. "He wouldn't let me drive and I was…I yelled at him, Sandy. The accident, it was my fault. Please…tell me he's all right?" she pleaded, now clutching onto his hand under the covers, her eyes begging him to tell her what she wanted to hear. The tears slipped from her eyes, leaving wet trails down the pale skin of her cheeks.

"Just calm down. We don't know anything yet," he tried to assure her.

"How long have I been here? How could you not know anything?"

"Shh…just relax, okay? Everything's going to be okay, just relax."

"I want you to find out that he's okay. I want to see him. I'm not hurt; let me see him. I have to," she stated loudly, leaning forward to try to get up again.

"Shh." Sandy tried to soothe her, pressing the nurse button then running his thumb across her cheeks, deleting the tear tracks. "Right now, all you're going to do is rest."

"Don't placate me, Sandy!" she shot back angrily, swatting his hand from her face. "This is my fault."

Sandy was surprisingly relieved to see her fight with him. He needed proof of her strength, even if it as at his expense.

"Kirsten. Stop. Lie still and let them check you over. I'm not going anywhere," Sandy said determinedly as the nurse hurried to her side. He took a step back and let her tend to his wife.

"Sandy, go make sure he's okay. He shouldn't be alone, he's -"

"He's not here yet, Kirsten. I promise that I'll check on him as soon."

"He's not here? Where is he? The Rover, it went off the bridge." Her voice rose and new tears revealed themselves as she began to panic. "Please tell me he got out!"

"Kirsten. If you don't calm down I'll ask them to sedate you," Sandy threatened.

"Sandy," she started, obviously deflating. "I'm sorry…. I'm so sorry, Sandy."

"We'll worry about apologies later, honey. Just relax," he urged.

"Sandford." Sandy turned around to see Caleb standing in the open doorway. "They're bringing him in now." Sandy nodded in acknowledgment.

Caleb took a few uncertain steps into the room, pulling his hands from his pockets. "Kiki?"

Sandy heard his wife stifle a sob, but he didn't turn back.

"Stay with her, Cal; I'll be right back."

* * *

"What happened?" Sandy asked, pushing past the officers to get to Ryan's bedside. The doctors were working frantically, tossing thick, heavy blankets on top of him and shouting stats that Sandy couldn't decode.

"Sir, please step back," one of the doctors said calmly, placing an authoritative hand on Sandy's chest to prevent him from coming any closer.

Sandy pivoted around to face the officers who were standing by the trauma room doors. "What the hell happened?" he growled, stepping toward them.

"He's…we found him like that in the cell. The EMTs think he's hypothermic or something," the one officer replied sheepishly, only meeting Sandy's eyes for a brief second before pulling away.

"He pulled my wife out of the God damned ocean," Sandy said slowly. "Of _course_ he's hypothermic. You didn't even give him a blanket or dry clothes? But you know what I'd really like to know? Why the hell was he even in a cell to start off with?" Sandy demanded, now only a foot away from the two officers. He could feel himself blazing inside and he was going to get some answers out of these idiots if it killed him.

"He's seventeen so we put him in with the adults in a holding cell. We don't give out fresh clothes to collars in our holding cells," the man tried to rationalize.

Sandy was so angry that he couldn't even respond. He forced himself to take a deep breath and turned to catch a nurse's attention. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked a kind-looking, older nurse who had just finished hanging a bag of clear liquid on a metal stand.

She smiled warmly, but much to Sandy's relief, she delivered the straight facts. "His body temp's down to 91 degrees. We have to get him warm. He's in more danger than your wife because he's gone so long without any treatment but hopefully we'll know something soon when he starts responding to treatment."

Sandy nodded appreciatively and then turned back to face the officers. "I think you better go call your boss," he said, alternating his gaze from one officer to the other. "The highest boss you have. Tell him to call the department's lawyer. I want you away from him right now."

"Sir, I understand your concern about how the situation was handled, but we weren't the officers who arrested your son; he was brought in before our shift began. I'll certainly pass along the word to our captain, though. All the best to your family."

The two officers quietly exited the room and Sandy ran the balls of his hands over his eyes. He was upset and he had to calm down – for Ryan and Kirsten. It was time for him to be a father and a husband, not a lawyer.

"Sir?" A voice pulled him from his thoughts. "He's waking up." Sandy turned around and regarded the same, kind nurse. "If you could try and keep him calm so we can explain what we're doing…?"

"Of course," Sandy replied, immediately approaching Ryan's bedside.

"It would be best if he were to stay still," she quietly guided him.

Ryan's eyelids were drooping but Sandy glimpsed a flash of his familiar blue eyes. He leaned forward into Ryan's line of vision.

"Ryan? Ryan, kid, look at me."

"Sandy," Ryan groaned quietly, his voice so rough and strained that Sandy barely recognized it. "I'm tired…cold. What's going on?" Ryan asked, blinking, shivering, but not focusing.

"Well, you took a swim in some pretty cold water," Sandy said matter-of-factly. "The doctors have to warm you up." Sandy took his hand and cringed at the chill in his skin. He was definitely colder than Kirsten.

"They took me to jail," Ryan murmured, his gaze roaming around the room, ignoring the doctors and nurses who had gathered around him.

Sandy felt his heart wrench at Ryan's statement and he couldn't trust himself to respond without finally losing control. He just tried to smile for Ryan – tried to give him a little comfort in his time of need.

The kind nurse thankfully spoke for Sandy. "We have to raise your temperature, Ryan, okay? We're giving you fluids and wrapping you in blankets to help you warm up. Just let us work and you'll be good as new in no time, okay?"

Ryan gave them an indifferent nod. "Kirsten, is she all right? They wouldn't tell me anything," Ryan slurred, his head rolling back to the side to face Sandy.

"She's fine," Sandy replied without a second's hesitation. "We're just worried about you now. You just keep talking to me, okay?"

Ryan blinked and it took a long moment for him to open his eyes again. "You know how much I love to talk."

Sandy released a relieved breath with a smile. "I know, kid. Just try, okay?"

"I'm sorry…about the Rover…and Kirsten." Ryan's entire body shook with a violent shiver and Sandy felt he was losing his grip on is emotions. He couldn't hate this more. He'd trade places with Ryan in an instant.

"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? Everything's going to be okay."

Ryan nodded but it was clear he didn't believe it. His eyes drifted closed and his head rolled back to it's original position.

"Ryan," Sandy said, squeezing his hand. "Stay awake for me, okay?"

"Not sleeping…just resting," he mumbled.

* * *

"Dad?" Seth called out when he spotted his dad emerging from one of the rooms, half-way down the hall.

"Seth, where have you been?" his dad asked as he walked briskly toward Seth, pulling him into his tight embrace.

"I just heard," Seth mumbled, using his hands on his dad's shoulders to push himself away. He pointed to Lindsay, who was standing against the wall, clutching her purse in one hand and the car keys in the other. Her eyes were tinted with pink, and the tip of her nose was bright red. "Lindsay brought me."

Seth's dad turned to eye Lindsay, then reached over and squeezed her shoulder, pulling her closer. "Are you guys all right?"

"We're fine," Lindsay answered assuredly with a determined nod. She looked up tentatively. "How're Kirsten and Ryan?"

"Well, they're still working with Ryan right now but Kirsten's going to be just fine."

"And Ryan?" Seth was worried by his dad's evasive and vague answer. He sought out his dad's eyes and made sure they'd locked gazes.

"They're…working. The Rover went off a bridge; it's at the bottom of the bay right now."

"Oh God," Lindsay gasped, again sniffling. "But…but Ryan was driving…," she stammered, but didn't finish her sentence. Seth looked down at the floor, stuffed his hands in his pockets and rolled a piece of lint between his fingers; seeing Lindsay so upset was not helping him keep his own emotions in check.

"We don't have the whole story yet but apparently Kirsten was thrown out and Ryan found her in the water and brought her to shore. The…fucking inept cops, excuse my language, took him in. They were looking at an old insurance policy and when they saw Ryan's record they held him at the station," Sandy explained, and Seth suddenly felt a hand on his back. He knew his dad was struggling but it felt good to let someone else be the strong one. He didn't look up though, instead, he tried to count the thousands of tiny pebbles that peppered the tiles of the floor. "They didn't know that he was hypothermic until an hour or so ago. His temperature's rising…but not as fast as the doctors want it to."

Seth's dad stopped, Lindsay sniffled, and Seth finally found the courage to lift his gaze. "Can I see him? Can I see Mom?" he asked.

"I'll take you to your mother," his dad said with a fabricated smile and gentle nod. "Lindsay, have you called your mother to tell her where you are?"

"I'll call her now," she mumbled, fumbling with her purse as she searched for her phone. "She knows I was looking for Seth…."

"If you don't mind, could you sit with Ryan for a few minutes?" Seth's dad quietly asked Lindsay, and Seth let out a little breath of relief knowing that Ryan couldn't be too bad off if they were going to allow his girlfriend to sit with him. "I'll leave Seth with his mom and come right back."

"Of course," she answered quickly, shoving her phone back in her purse and snapping it shut. "Where is he?"

"Right in there." He pointed to the room from which he had just come out. "The nurse is with him and he's just sleeping. See if you can get him to wake up; they'd like him to be conscious." Seth recognized the relief in his dad's voice at Lindsay's willingness to bear some of the load.

Lindsay nodded, pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket to wipe her nose and then stepped across the hall toward Ryan's room.

"C'mon, Seth, I'll take you to your mom." Seth nodded and felt his dad's hand guide him down the hall. He followed obediently but glanced into Ryan's room as they walked past.

* * *

Lindsay stepped into Ryan's room and was greeted by the smell of antiseptic and a smile from one of the nurses.

"He's still sleeping, sweetie. Are you his girlfriend?" the nurse asked in a quiet comforting tone that encouraged Lindsay's shoulder muscles to relax ever-so-slightly.

Lindsay nodded and paused, unsure of what she could and could not touch, fearing she could somehow hurt him if she sat in the wrong place or grazed the wrong tube.

"You can sit right here, sweetie," the nurse said, tapping the stool by Ryan's beside. "He'd like to know you're close." She stepped back as Lindsay lowered herself onto the stool, her knuckles white as both hands clutched her purse in her lap.

"He's going to be okay. It's just going to take some time to warm him up. Talk to him; see if you can get him to wake up. Push that button if you need anything or have any questions, okay?"

"Thanks." Lindsay nodded and took a deep breath, returning her attention to Ryan as the nurse soundlessly left the room.

Ryan was barely visible under a pile of blankets which ended just beneath his chin and stretched to well below his feet. One of his hands was exposed with an IV tube taped to it that snaked up to a bag of clear liquid hanging on a stand. Lindsay noted where everything was, so she could be sure not to disrupt anything. Satisfied that she could do no harm, she took his hand in hers.

"Ryan," she whispered quietly, watching his stark-white face for any reaction, "I've only known you a few weeks but I really care about you – and the Cohens really care about you. It's just…you're scaring us a little. I really need you to open your eyes and tell me that everything's going to be okay…because whenever you say it, I believe it…." She stopped and turned away to sniff and swallow the growing lump in her throat.

His eyes were still closed when she turned back to face him.

"So much for the dramatic speech," she scoffed with a brief smile despite herself.

"Lindsay?" his voice was hoarse and raw, but it had never sounded so good.

"Hey," she whispered gratefully, leaning in toward him. "I'm here, Ryan."

He shivered lightly and licked his lips before cracking his eyes open. "What…. It's heavy."

Lindsay frowned, pushing the button the nurse had pointed out earlier then releasing his hand to cup his face. "They're taking good care of you."

"Is Kirsten all right?" From what little she could see, his blue eyes were dazed and unfocused. His skin was chilly but not like she had been expecting.

"She's fine. Sandy and Seth are with her," she said, relieved when his eyes seemed to clear up and fix upon her.

He relaxed visibly, shifting under the blankets with a shiver. "Good…" he groaned under his breath. "I'm glad you're here… and safe."

Before Lindsay could respond, the nurse came in followed by a man in a long, white coat, who Lindsay assumed must be Ryan's doctor. She removed her hands from his face and sat back into the stool, resuming the clutch on her purse.

The doctor went straight to the monitors on the other side of the bed while the nurse smiled at Lindsay, waving her hand in a small circular gesture, silently encouraging Lindsay to continue.

Lindsay smiled back and nodded, again taking Ryan's hand. "You're safe too. Do you know where you are?"

"I'm thinking…hospital?" Lindsay smiled at him in acknowledgement. "I think…I think I saw Sandy. I'm pretty messed up, right?" he asked, obviously unsure and seeking assurance.

"You're…you're cold," Lindsay said, not knowing how else to explain it. "You're not messed up."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, grimacing as he swallowed and closing his eyes for a long moment.

The doctor cleared his throat and crouched down to Ryan's eyelevel. "You're suffering from hypothermia, Ryan. We're working hard to get you warm. Can you try and stay awake?"

"Sure," Ryan whispered, opening his eyes again. "I can try."

Lindsay felt his fingers tighten around her hand. "Can you stay a little while?"

"As long as you need." She smiled genuinely for the first time since she received that dreaded phone call.

"Thanks. I know it's a big step…considering we're not even official yet," he joked.

Lindsay laughed and pulled his hand up to her lips, kissing it softly. "You're still my best friend."

He shivered again, but his subtle smile soothed Lindsay's heart.

"Lindsay? Are you all right?" She jumped a little on her stool, startled by Caleb's voice.

Ryan closed his eyes and titled his head back into his pillow. She slipped her hand free and rose to meet Caleb at the door.

"I'm fine," she said softly.

"How is he?" Caleb asked, tentatively putting an arm around her waist.

Lindsay just shrugged, unsure of how to respond to that question. Was he okay? No. Will he be? She hoped so. When she glanced back, Ryan was regarding them with dull blue eyes. He looked so different than he had only seconds before.

"Ryan, thank-you for taking care of my daughters," Caleb said formally, giving a respectful nod.

"How is she?" Ryan asked, his voice unstable and wavering through his short question.

"Frantic with worry about you," Caleb replied.

"I'm okay…." Ryan's eyes slipped shut again.

"He's freezing," Lindsay whispered to Caleb, who responded by tightening his grip around her waist. She wasn't sure if it was the trauma of the evening, but tonight, for some reason, it wasn't so hard allowing Caleb to be her father.

Ryan lazily turned his head to look at the doctor. "How long do you need me awake? 'Cause I'm sort of tired."

"It's really important, Ryan, for you to keep talking, okay?" the doctor replied, casting a pleading glance toward Lindsay. She nodded and pulled away from Caleb, resuming her position at Ryan's side.

"Can I sit up?" Ryan asked.

The nurse raised the bed slightly and Ryan blinked his thanks.

"Are you in pain?" Caleb asked, taking a step into the room, pausing at the foot of the bed.

"It's keeping me awake…. I'm fine," Ryan slurred, his exhaustion palpable.

"Doctor?" Caleb asked, alarmed.

"Keep him talking, his slur's a side effect of the hypothermia," the doctor explained calmly.

"You're okay. But I think we'll need an extension on our project," Lindsay said, recapturing Ryan's attention.

"I'll call the teacher," Caleb started immediately.

"Shh, Caleb. It was a joke," Lindsay said with a light laugh, and she caught the flash of a smile on Ryan's face.

"You swear she's okay?" Ryan asked Caleb.

"I wouldn't be here if she wasn't," Caleb answered. Lindsay glared at him. Sometimes she wondered if Caleb had an ounce of sensitivity in his body.

"That I believe," Ryan murmured groggily, closing his eyes again.

"Ryan, we know you're tired," Lindsay started, shaking his hand a little. "But I need you to—"

"Still here," he interrupted, taking a deep breath.

Another nurse came into the room with several bottles of juice in her arms.

"Ryan?" the nurse said in a motherly tone as he set the bottles down on the table near the door, opening one up and approaching the bed. "Can you try to drink this? It would do you a lot of good to get some sugar in your system."

He wiggled his free hand out from underneath the pile of blankets, and tried to accept the bottle, but after several tries, it was obvious his fingers were not going to cooperate.

Finally, Lindsay reached across and took the bottle of apple juice, raising it to his lips.

Yep, she thought, this evening was definitely a big step in their relationship.

* * *

Kirsten was sitting up and drinking from a bottle of juice when Caleb returned. Seth was sitting with her, holding her hand and talking to her in a mildly subdued version of his typical manic babbling.

"So, you are totally grounded for the next six months. All your parental rights are revoked because you scared the living hell out of me tonight and I deserve retribution for the pain and suffering I went through when Lindsay showed up telling me that you were in an accident and--" Seth glanced up, suddenly aware of Caleb's presence.

"Did you see him? Is he all right?" Kirsten asked immediately, the hand holding the bottle of juice dropping to her side.

"He's going to be fine, Kiki. He was more worried about you."

"This is all my fault," she said under her breath. "Is Sandy with him? He shouldn't be alone," she rambled.

"I'll check on him, Mom. I need to see him," Seth said sadly, flashing a gloomy smile at Caleb as he brushed past and out the door.

"Dad…," she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Oh, honey, everything's going to be fine," Caleb said softly, taking Seth's spot and running a hand over his daughter's trembling cheek. "You'll be fine."

"I shouldn't have yelled at him. I was…I've been drinking," she whispered, turning her face away from his as she delivered the devastating confession.

"I think you should probably talk to Sandford about that," Caleb stated, unwilling to tiptoe around the subject but also not wanting to upset his daughter when she needed all possible support to get well again. "We'll help you…whatever you need," Caleb soothed.

"I didn't mean to add more drama. God knows we have enough of it already." She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face with a shaky hand.

Her eyes shot to the doorway, and Caleb looked up to see a very defeated Sandy Cohen entering the room.

"Everything all right?" Sandy asked.

"Why aren't you with Ryan? He's not alone--" Kirsten's voice was strained and Caleb shushed her and brushed his hand through her hair.

"Seth and Lindsay are with him," Sandy said tiredly. He took the bottle of juice from Kirsten's hand and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "He's conscious and talking."

"Sandy…I think I might have a problem. I think I need help," Kirsten whispered. He leaned forward, pulling her into his arms.

"Okay, honey. We'll get through this…don't worry, I'll help you." He rubbed his hand over her back and squeezed tightly, never wanting to let her go ever again. He knew he could never live without his wife. She was his foundation and he would do everything within his power to make her strong again.

"I need to see Ryan. I have to talk to him, explain myself," she mumbled after a short lull, clinging back just as strongly.

"There will be plenty of time for that later. He's not going anywhere." He didn't want her to worry, though he realized that like any mother, she would worry until she knew for sure – until she could see him for herself and gain that peace of mind.

"Why aren't you with him?" she asked, and Sandy could feel her voice vibrate against his chest.

"Seth and Lindsay are doing a great job of keeping him awake. I need to be here with you."

"Sandy…." She pulled back a little bit, but Sandy tightened his grip. He wasn't ready to let go yet.

"There's nothing I can do for him right now, Kirsten. He's fine."

Kirsten shimmied back and out from his embrace, leaning back just far enough so she could study his face. "You're mad at me," she whispered, fresh tears glistening over her bright-blue eyes.

"I'm not mad," he assured her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I…I just can't believe I didn't know how much you were hurting. We used to talk to each other, Kirsten."

"I'm sorry," she started, the tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes, "but you're trying so hard to get your practice off the ground…. I didn't…I didn't want to drag you down."

"Your _issues_ are my _issues_, too," he said seriously, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. "Kirsten, I need you. You need me, too. We're married, and that means not having to handle everything or _anything_ alone."

"I'm sorry," she cried, the pools overflowing and raining tears down her cheeks. Sandy wiped them away with his thumb.

"It's going to be okay, but…d'you realize that you could've been killed tonight?" He paused and then whispered, "Ryan could've been killed."

She turned her head away, leaving his hand hovering in the air. But he wasn't done. He needed her to see the enormity of it all – despite the hurt it would undoubtedly cause her. "I could've lost you both tonight and I wouldn't have even known what happened to my family." He choked out the final words, his emotions getting the most of him for the first time since he stomped into the hospital.

Kirsten's chest jumped as she silently sobbed, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead into his chest. He kissed the top of her head lightly, letting his cheek rest against her soft, golden hair.

"We have to fix this. We have to do it together. I won't lose you; I won't lose our family," he said as he gently ran his fingers up and down her back. "Please…let me help you."

"Okay," she squeaked out through her sobs. "I'll do whatever you want…."

Sandy smiled and closed his eyes. "That's my girl."

"Oh…and Sandy?"

"Mmm?"

She sniffled and tilted her head slightly beneath his cheek. "In the spirit of telling; Julie's pregnant with another one of Jimmy's babies."

Sandy's eyes shot open and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Never a dull moment…."

* * *

Ryan blinked through his exhaustion and tried to lend Seth some of his attention. He'd started rambling off on some tangent as soon as the doctor had finished giving him an update by the door on Ryan's condition. Apparently, his temperature was up to 95, but Ryan had had to strain his ears to overhear the information.

He hated being treated like an invalid. Just because he was exhausted and his fingers and voice weren't really cooperating, it didn't mean his brain couldn't comprehend his own condition.

Lindsay's hand was still holding his tightly but she'd drifted off to sleep not too long ago – her head resting on top of his thickly-blanketed chest.

Her slumber hadn't stopped Seth from talking, though. The doctors still wanted Ryan awake and it was obvious that Seth had decided to make that his own personal mission.

"Dude. You're totally not listening," Seth whined, recapturing Ryan's attention.

"Sorry. Something about Summer?" Ryan attempted quietly so as not to disturb Lindsay. He knew that it was a highly probable assumption seeing as most of Seth's ramblings revolved around the topic of Summer.

"What about Summer?" Seth asked immediately.

"So, you weren't talking about Summer?" Ryan asked in amazement. He didn't think that had ever happened before….

"No, I mean…what are you talking about? Are you getting disoriented again? Do you want me to go get the doctor again?" Seth blurted out in a panic.

"Stop," Ryan said, holding up his hand weakly. "You're making me dizzy. I wasn't listening, Seth. Why don't you tell me about Summer?"

Seth squinted in confusion. "Why do you want to hear about Summer. D'you like her or something?" he asked in a whisper.

Ryan rolled his eyes and let out a shaky sigh. "No. Just…never mind."

Seth shook his head and leaned back in his seat, rocking back and forth a few times. Ryan could hear the swooshing of Seth's legs swinging rapidly beneath the bed. Seth's inability to sit still and remain quiet was enough to drive any normal person insane.

Ryan was surprised when Seth's mindless activities slowly came to a halt – his eyes falling on Lindsay's sleeping form.

"What?" Ryan asked hesitantly. He didn't really have the energy to deal with another one of Seth's mini-dramas right now but he needed the distraction to remain awake.

"Lindsay…she was really worried about you," Seth said, glancing up at Ryan for a second before turning away again. "She said you made her promise over and over again that she'd find me…."

"I…I don't really remember much after the cops took me away," Ryan admitted – aware for the first time of the ache in his chest where the seatbelt had restrained him when the car hit the ocean. At least he wasn't numb anymore.

"Well…I was with Summer," Seth said with a guilty, lopsided grin. "I quit my job at the Bait Shop last week and we've been…sneaking around."

Ryan's eyes widened in surprise as Seth tossed his hand up in the air. "It's so fucking stupid. I mean, I haven't even seen Mom in days and all this happens. I'm sorry, Ryan. For being so totally self-absorbed and out of the loop again."

Ryan shook off the apology, still stuck on the first part of Seth's little speech. "You and Summer are…?"

"No. We're not back together…we're just…."

"Sleeping together?" Ryan ventured.

"Well, yeah," Seth grinned - his cheeks blushing. "It's weird…."

"I'm glad, man."

"Thanks…I think. But it doesn't change the fact that I let you down again."

"You didn't let me down, Seth. Just…your mom's been really down lately. It might have helped if you'd been around more…she really loves you," he said hoarsely. He knew he only had so much left in his voice, so he met Seth's gaze and tried to make the most of what remained. "You shouldn't take what you have for granted."

Seth nodded seriously, tilting his chin toward Ryan. "I see that now. Thanks for…for taking care of my Mom."

Ryan nodded again. He was so tired and this staying awake thing was getting harder by the second. "I'm going to close my eyes," he whispered, his eyelids slipping shut despite his best efforts. "Wake me up when the sleep police comes back."

"Ryan, wait…." He heard Seth shuffling beside him.

"Just a nap, Seth; I just can't stay awake any longer," he confessed, and much to his relief, the shuffling stopped, allowing him to finally concede to his exhaustion.

* * *

Kirsten glanced over when she was convinced that Sandy was finally asleep in the foldout chair beside her bed.

They'd taken her off the IV a few hours earlier but insisted that she stay overnight for observation since she had been involved in such a traumatic event. She knew that Ryan was staying – his temperature finally at a safe 97 degrees from Sandy's last update.

Sandy had been pingponging between the two rooms, making sure they were both comfortable and safe. He'd only fallen asleep a short while earlier. Kirsten was relieved he was allowing himself to rest – even if it was just by accident.

She'd made such a mess of things. She'd never been depressed before – not to the point of fucking up her life, anyway – and she had been clueless about how to deal with it. Sure, she'd had down-times before when life had gotten to be overwhelming, but never had she sunk to such depths.

She kept flashing back to the car – seeing herself yelling at Ryan. He'd only done what they'd taught him and Seth to do which was to never let anyone drive drunk. He'd done his part, he'd taken her keys, and she'd punished him by scolding him and acting out in such a way that it had driven them both into the ocean.

He'd probably never forgive her.

She knew that wasn't true, though. Ryan…he always forgave. Externally, at least. What went on inside, she was sure she'd never know. But she'd seen him forgive his own mother - his own family for their mistakes, ones that greatly affected his own life. But Kirsten knew she was supposed to be different.

She'd begged Sandy to let her see Ryan, but he'd insisted that she wait until the morning.

Well, it was three a.m., and technically, that was morning.

She gently pushed back the pile of blanket that were covered her body and lowered her slippered feet to the floor. She grabbed the top blanket from the pile on the bed and draped it across her shoulders. Her dad had brought her some clothes after he'd taken Seth and Lindsay home earlier in the night and she was grateful not to have to wear one of those dreadful hospital gowns. Besides, her well-worn sweater and thick fleece pants were helping her keep some of the warmth in her bones.

She tiptoed into the hallway, carefully closing the door but not latching it, just in case the noise woke Sandy. The lights in the hallway were dimmed and no nurses were wandering about so she felt safe to start her search for Ryan. She knew he couldn't be too far, since her nurses were his nurses, too. He was probably only a few rooms away.

One of the doors a few feet away was half-opened. There was no name displayed but she had a feeling that it might be Ryan's. She hesitantly peered into the room but the bed was empty. She was about to turn around to resume her search when she recognized one of Sandy's duffle bags lying on the floor beside the bed.

She pushed the door open just a little and let her eyes scan the room before allowing herself to panic. The bathroom door was closed but she could see light peeking through the crack under the door. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard the faint sound of a toilet flushing. The doctors had pumped her full of fluids too, and she'd been up and down to the bathroom at least ten times since they'd taken her off the IV.

The door opened and Ryan stepped out, his hair tousled and his blue eyes hooded with drowsiness.

She didn't wait for him to see her, she had to hug him; she had to hold him in her arms. He jerked suddenly, startled by her surprise touch, but after a moment, she felt him put his arms around her back.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," he murmured, his voice gravelly and hoarse. For some reason, her heart started to race. It was like just seeing him in this state made her realize she had done this. She was responsible.

But like Ryan, he was still trying to take care of her. She felt tears prick at her eyes.

"You, either," she replied, still holding him tightly.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, pulling out of her embrace long enough to shiver and shuffle back toward his bed. She saw him reaching for one of the blankets so she went to his side and urged him to lie down again.

"Better than you look, I have to say," she said, pleased when he allowed her to tuck him in.

His eyes searched her face and she could tell that he was trying to think of something to say. His words startled her. "You…you really scared me tonight. I mean…you jumped. You jumped out of a moving vehicle."

He didn't tell yell at her for being irresponsible or acting irrationally and dangerously – instead, he told her she'd scared him by endangering _herself_. She grabbed his hand and kneaded it with her fingers as she tried to distract herself from the building emotional storm in her chest.

"As I recall, it was a _falling_ vehicle," she finally said. "And I wasn't exactly thinking at the time…I was too busy screaming," she finished in a whisper, shuddering as she recalled the scene. She had done a pretty good job of not allowing herself to think about it up to this point.

"I couldn't find you," he groaned, but Kirsten couldn't tell whether he was in pain or just pained by the memory. Either way, she could see how scared he really was. It was like he hadn't really believed she was okay until right now. She knew she should have come to him sooner.

"Ryan, I am so sorry. You should have never been in that position…not in my home…not with me. It will never happen again." And as the words left her mouth, she realized that promises probably meant nothing to this boy. He'd been through too much to take the word of others at face value. "I'll prove it, Ryan…if you'll let me."

He squeezed her hand strongly. She looked up to meet his eyes. His face was drawn and pale and he looked like he was going to pass out from exhaustion. He blinked and nodded, tilting his chin into his chest. "Okay. I believe you. But…you know, everyone needs some help sometimes…. If you guys hadn't helped me when I needed it…." He shrugged and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Well, I'd be in a different place right now. Sometimes we have to put our pride in the back seat and let other people help us."

She nodded, tears streaming down her face as she let this 17-year-old boy speak with such wisdom. "I know…you're right…and I'm getting help. Seth's grounded me…."

He smiled, laughing softly.

She laughed too, more out of relief than at the humor. "And he seems pretty serious about it. I'm serious, too. Things…they aren't supposed to be like this."

"I know." He nodded. "But we'll get through this."

"Ryan? Kirsten, my God! What the hell are you trying to do, put me in the hospital too with a God damned heart attack?" Sandy's voice was haggard, and Kirsten turned to see him standing in the doorway, his palms turned up in exasperation.

She shot him an apologetic smile as he approached, his expression softening. "I'm sorry, Sandy. I just had to see him."

"You should both be sleeping; the nurses are going to have my head," he said, running a hand through his hair and straightening the blanket around her shoulders before turning his attention to Ryan. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," Ryan whispered, his eyelids sagging. "But I think I'm going to call it a night." He squeezed Kirsten's hand again, regarding her. "We can talk tomorrow?"

"I'll see you first thing," she smiled, pulling herself to her feet on weary legs and leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Sandy's arm found its way around her waist, urging her to leave with him.

"You can see him tomorrow but for now, you need your rest, too," he whispered in her ear, gently leading her from the room. "No more wandering off. I'm not letting you out of my sight for a while so you better get used to it."


	4. 4

Thanks to the wonderful HelenC, this fic has finally been given some closure!

Brandy (brandywine421) and myself (Joey51) were happy to hand over the reins to Helen when she expressed an interest in writing the epilogue for this story. We think she did an incredible job finishing what we never could. So any and all kudos should be directed toward Helen on this one.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Ryan lay on his bed, Lindsay wrapped around him, soaking in her warmth, enjoying the rhythm of her quiet breathing.

Ever since the accident, he kept feeling like he would never be warm enough anymore. He still bundled under two covers each night, the remembered shivers of cold never far from his mind.

"You okay?" Lindsay asked.

He smiled at her. "Yeah. Just…"

She made a face. "Still cold?"

He shook his head. "I'm not cold. I just feel like it."

"That makes… very little sense, Ryan."

He didn't reply. She was right—she usually was—but he didn't know how to explain it better.

Sighing, she laid her head on his chest. Ryan had to smile. Whatever other consequences the accident had had, at least he and Lindsay were definitely more comfortable with each other. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that she had seen him half naked under the covers at the hospital, and that she had helped him to drink at a point when he could barely lift a finger to do so.

It may also have to do with the fact that she had heard his voice shaking on the phone, and that she had dealt with his call for help alone, gathering all the Cohens and making sure they knew something was wrong.

In many ways, this had been a harsh crash course into the messy life of Ryan for her, but she had come through with flying colors.

She had been there with him through the worst.

They hadn't talked about it yet, but he had the feeling that, aside from being closer to him, she also felt more integrated into the family.

"I'm going back to school on Monday," Ryan said, his eyes on the ceiling, his fingers absently playing with Lindsay's hair.

"Good," she said. "Just in time for the new physics project to be handed out."

"Yay," Ryan said. He didn't try to fake enthusiasm. Working with Lindsay was nice, and he didn't mind Physics, but the sheer amount of "special projects" they had to work on was bordering on the ridiculous.

He amended his answer when she looked up and frowned at him. "I mean, cool."

She shook her head, amused. "Right. I'm sure you're so very excited about it."

"Excited?" Seth said, stepping into the room without knocking. "Am I interrupting?" He froze at the sight of Ryan and Lindsay, his eyes widening comically. "Well, maybe I am."

Lindsay looked like she was about to stick out her tongue at him, but she merely shrugged, detangling herself from Ryan.

Ryan sighed at the loss of warmth just as she said, "Come off it, Seth. At least, we're still fully clothed. Which is more than I can say about you when I surprised you and Summer in bed together."

Seth turned a bright shade of red. "Er," he stammered.

"Did you want something, Seth?" Ryan asked pointedly. Seth's habit of barging into other people's rooms was one of his biggest flaws. For that reason only, Ryan was impatient to go back to the pool house (not that the pool house door locked, but at least, there, he sometimes managed to see Seth before the guy entered without warning or permission).

"Nah." Seth bounced on the edge of the bed, jarring Ryan who scowled at him. "Grandpa is here. Says his lawyer spoke to Julie earlier today." He sighed dreamily. "You gotta admit, there's no good way of learning you've been cheated on, but learning about it _that_ way had to suck."

Ryan could almost see the jokes starting to gather in Seth's mind. Knowing his friend's atrocious sense of humor, all of them would be tasteless. "Seth," he said. He motioned to Lindsay, inwardly praying that Seth would have the good sense to think before he talked, for once.

Lindsay was looking at them both, her expression unreadable.

"Right," Seth said. "I think I'll just… remain silent, now."

Ryan and Lindsay shared an incredulous glance.

"Who are you?" Lindsay started.

"And what have you done with Seth Cohen?" Ryan completed.

Seth made a face at them. "Very funny. Ha ha. You're so funny together."

"Has Julie gone back to Jimmy?" Lindsay asked before Seth could start to rant.

"Word on the street says she did, yes. No one seems to know yet what they're going to do. Sail to Hawaii? Live on their boat for the rest of their lives? The question remains open."

Knowing Julie, Ryan very much doubted the new Cooper-Nichol-Cooper baby would grow up on a boat, but he refrained from saying so. It wasn't his problem. The Cohens had enough on their plates without worrying about the Coopers.

Kirsten still seemed shakier than anyone was comfortable with—shaky enough that even Lindsay had picked up on it.

Ryan didn't think that she and Sandy had decided what they wanted to do yet. He suspected that she had seen a therapist before leaving the hospital, but he didn't know how the Cohens were going to handle her addiction.

Was Kirsten going to be sent to an in-patient rehab facility? Was she going to attend AA meetings? Was she going to get therapy? All of the above?

He knew that she and Sandy had long talks about it, but so far, Ryan and Seth hadn't been told much, aside from, "Don't worry," and, "We're figuring it out."

Ryan did know that there wasn't a single drop of alcohol left in the house. He had checked, discreetly, once Kirsten and Sandy were holed up in their room. He didn't know whether to be glad they weren't ignoring the problem, or saddened that there was a problem at all.

He must have looked as gloomy as he felt, because Lindsay nudged him before asking cheerily, "So, Seth, how are things with Summer?"

Seth brightened immediately. "Great!" He sobered long enough to look at Ryan. "I'm not losing sight of—"

Ryan waved away his explanation. He knew Seth felt vaguely guilty of hooking up with Summer again so soon after what had happened to his family. Hell, sometimes, Ryan felt guilty for feeling happy with Lindsay too.

Kirsten wouldn't want them to spend their time brooding while she recovered, though.

"It's okay," he said. "I get it."

Seth nodded, and once again started to list all the ways in which Summer was perfect and how much being with her rocked.

Ryan settled in to listen, Lindsay drawing closer to him. He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned on him, her body warmth seeping through his clothes, and he savored the sensation.

* * *

Ryan was going to die. 

The water was rising, his seatbelt was stuck, and even if it got unstuck, he was trapped in a drowning car, and there was no way he'd be able to hold his breath long enough to swim to the surface.

Which was a moot point anyway, since the impact had jammed the seatbelt mechanism, and it was hopelessly stuck.

The water was reaching his chin and Ryan tilted his head back, gulping down oxygen, fighting back a wave of panic.

His fingers, numb with cold, struggled some more with the seatbelt release button.

Then, the water rose some more, covered his mouth, his nose, and Ryan closed his eyes.

xx

When he opened them again—again? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?—he was falling and Kirsten was falling next to him.

He reached out, grabbed her hand, held on tight.

_Pull this car over, now!_

Kirsten's hand was wrenched from his and he saw her fall down, and down, and down, spiraling almost gracefully out of his reach.

"Kirsten!" he yelled.

When he reached out for her, his fingers didn't meet anything but air.

"Kirsten!"

She was several feet beneath him now, heading straight to the black water.

The same water that was climbing up to meet him awfully fast.

Ryan closed his eyes.

xx

When he opened them again, he was stuck in the car again, trapped by his seatbelt.

And Kirsten was not with him.

"Kirsten? Kirsten!?"

* * *

Ryan woke up with a gasp, his arms trapped by his sides. 

"You with me now, kid?" Sandy asked, peering down at him.

Ryan nodded jerkily, panting, disoriented. Sandy let him go and Ryan sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings.

Guest room.

He was in the guest room—the Cohens had insisted he stay here after he'd been released from the hospital. "Just until you feel better," they'd said. Ryan had accepted, mostly because they looked worried and guilty every time they looked at him and he wanted to appease them.

"You okay?" Sandy asked when Ryan's breathing returned to normal.

"Yeah." Ryan shook his head slowly. "Sorry."

"Bad dream?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. Given that Sandy had found him trashing in bed, maybe even talking, there was really no point in denying it. "Yeah."

Sandy's reaction was exactly what Ryan expected—a patient, "Wanna talk about it?"

Still fuzzy with sleep, Ryan offered, "I couldn't get out of the car. The water was rising, and I couldn't get out of the car, and…"

_I lost Kirsten. _

_I couldn't catch her, I wasn't quick enough._

"Did that really happen?" Sandy asked.

Ryan shot him a surprised look, leading Sandy to add, "You didn't talk about it. I just… Did you have trouble getting out of the car?"

Ryan swallowed, nodded. "My seatbelt was stuck. Then, I couldn't open the door."

He saw Sandy's jaw clench and stopped. He shouldn't have said anything at all. He didn't want Sandy more worried than he already was. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, kid," Sandy said.

"I'm fine," he replied hastily. "I'm fine." Not that claiming so ever made a difference. Sandy and Kirsten kept apologizing, several times a day. No matter how many times he told them that he was doing well, they still kept apologizing.

And sure, the recurring nightmares were a bitch—disturbing, scary, and real enough that Ryan could feel his lungs burn again, like they had that night. Still, having nightmares meant that he was alive enough to get them, so that was good.

Sandy looked skeptical, but he didn't push.

Another rush of gratefulness through Ryan. He glanced at the clock.

Five in the morning.

Great.

No sense in trying to go back to sleep now.

Looking at Sandy, he smiled sheepishly. "Pancakes?"

Sandy smiled, rubbed his hands. "Kid, that's the best idea I've heard all day."

"The day's still young," Ryan pointed out.

Sandy didn't let that deter him. "Doesn't matter," he said. "I'm sure it'll be the best idea I'll hear all day."

* * *

In many ways, the night of the accident seemed unreal—almost like it had happened to another family. 

Sandy had the feeling that they were all going through the motions. Discussing the best course of action to help Kirsten, making sure Ryan got the support he needed, making sure Seth wasn't lost in the shuffle and keeping Social Services off their back, required all of Sandy's energy.

At least his job was covered. The fact that he was going to owe some people a lifetime of favors was totally inconsequential, as long as it gave him time to focus on what was really important.

And of course, the fact that he was able to blow off some steam when he spent half an hour yelling into the phone at the cops who had left one of his kids to freeze to death in a holding cell didn't hurt either.

Damn, but that felt good.

Every time he started to wonder if he should have some pity, he remembered Ryan's drowsy, "They took me to jail," at the hospital, the slurred words fuelling his fury all over again.

Once he eventually stopped screaming and allowed the cops to thoroughly apologize, he hung up and saw that Ryan and Seth had witnessed some of that.

Both of them looked awed.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side again," Seth said.

"Son, I would have thought you'd have learned that lesson years ago," Sandy replied half-jokingly.

The boys retreated then, but the look Ryan shot Sandy on his way out was worth a thousand thanks.

That kid just didn't think he was important enough for people to stand up for him.

Well, he'd learn.

Sandy would make sure of that.

Still, that little fun notwithstanding, life had been strange recently in the Cohen household.

Everyone was walking around on eggshells, and Sandy didn't know how to go about fixing this.

Kirsten adamantly refused to go to rehab. "I know I need help, but my place is with my family," she kept saying. Sandy couldn't deny that. He just hoped he wasn't making another mistake by not forcing the issue.

She had attended two AA meetings already. She said they helped, but she insisted on not saying it to the kids right away. "Just in case," she said.

Just in case AA wasn't enough and she had to leave, Sandy translated. _Let's not give them false hope._

Lindsay, at least, seemed more at ease around the lot of them, and she seemed to be doing a world of good to Ryan. Despite the nightmares and the skittishness whenever anyone talked about the accident, Ryan seemed more comfortable with them than he ever had.

Seth, too, seemed to be taking the situation in stride. It must have shaken him to realize that he had almost lost his mother and his brother, at the same time he had realized that his mother was human and made mistakes, but he was doing all he could to help.

Caleb was around a lot more often—an unpleasant but unavoidable consequence. At least, his hostility towards Ryan seemed to have faded. He hadn't even made a jab at Ryan's driving skills, had actually thanked him for saving Kirsten.

Ryan hadn't said a word about it, but Sandy had studied him carefully the last few times Caleb had been around, and he thought Ryan looked slightly less tense—almost as if he didn't expect an attack from the old man any time soon anymore. About damn time.

Sandy sipped his first cup of coffee of the day. The house was quiet, as was the pool house—Ryan had finally gone back to it the previous day, pleading that he was fine and needed some privacy from Seth. This small hint of things returning back to normal had been good for everyone.

They had all been given second chances.

_He_ had been given a second chance.

* * *

This time, he vowed he wouldn't screw it up. 

Ryan froze on the patio, just short of entering the kitchen, the sharp sob coming from inside the house taking him by surprise.

He cautiously peeked into the kitchen.

Kirsten was sitting at the counter, her back to him, head in her hands.

She shoulders were shaking softly as she cried.

Ryan swallowed past the lump in his throat.

How many times had he found his mother like this?

How many times had Dawn cried—wanting him to help her, take that burden away from her. Wanting him to forgive her? Swearing she wouldn't do it again?

He shook the thoughts.

Kirsten wasn't like Dawn.

Kirsten wasn't asking him to take care of her problems. She was doing everything she could to make sure that Ryan and Seth's lives weren't too disturbed by her problems.

Kirsten hadn't yelled at him that it was all his fault, or that she was just trying to do the best she could, as Dawn had once done. Ryan could still remember with painful clarity Trey's smirk, his cynical, "Yeah, well, nice to see the therapy worked."

That must have been after Dawn's third stint in rehab.

_Aren't you the slightest bit mad?_ a little voice asked him tauntingly, intruding on his thoughts. _Mad that life made you go through that shit again? Mad at Kirsten for not being perfect? Mad that you ended up with another alcoholic mother?_

_Truthfully?_

Ryan took a deep breath, ignoring the nagging questions.

If it had been Dawn, he might have gone to her, allowed her to rest on him, made her talk to him.

But this wasn't Dawn and…

And he had spent too much time already dealing with Kirsten as if she had been Dawn.

He had covered for her so Sandy wouldn't know there was a problem.

He had covered for her so she could lie to herself and pretend that her drinking was still well under control.

He'd just had to do something. He couldn't let people he loved hit rock bottom, not without trying to prevent it.

Ryan wasn't blind enough not to see that he had fallen back on old habits, doing for Kirsten what he would have done for Dawn.

He should have remembered that he had never helped Dawn—not in any way that counted.

He'd just have to let her struggle her own way through. There was nothing he could do for her.

For either of them.

He took a step back just as Kirsten got to her feet and took the phone.

He continued his silent retreat, only stopping when he bumped into something.

He spun on his heels, startled, and came face to face with Seth, who was staring at Kirsten.

Ryan nudged him softly, and Seth finally focused on him. They exchanged a long, silent look.

Ryan knew it had hit Seth hard to realize that his mother could get sick too.

He didn't blame him. He had been blindsided too.

He had always known that human beings made mistakes, but he had never thought the same theory would ever apply to Kirsten.

"I'll go in by the front door," Seth said.

"Yeah."

They hurriedly went back to their rooms, before Kirsten realized they'd seen her.

* * *

"You were wrong, you know," Ryan told Kirsten, two weeks after the accident. 

She had admitted to both her sons that she was now attending AA meetings, and they had both nodded in either acknowledgement or acceptance before asking if they could go out the next day.

She hadn't pushed, wary of making them more uncomfortable than they already were.

Ryan had hung back after they had finished eating, helping her to fill the dishwasher. They were standing side by side in front of sink. He was rinsing out the dishes and handing them over to her, their movements coordinated and sure. It was part of their well-honed evening routine, familiar and comforting.

"About what?" she asked when it became clear that he wasn't going to elaborate if she didn't prompt him.

"When you said that you were the parent, and it wasn't my place to worry about you."

She tried to catch his glance but he was studiously avoiding looking at her.

She wondered once again how mad he was. He kept to himself most of the time, and he was too skilled at hiding his emotions, but she knew that deep down, he had to be somewhat angry, even if he didn't admit it—even to himself.

It wasn't fair for her family, but it was even more unfair for Ryan, who had been promised a new life—a life where he would never be put in such a situation again.

He was waiting for an answer, so she swallowed thickly and said, "I was drunk."

"I know." His tone was warm and un-judging, and for all his awkwardness at initiating this discussion, he wasn't letting go. "I just meant… You can worry about me, and I can worry about you, and Seth can worry about you and…" She looked at him when he trailed off. He was staring out the window, at the sunset over the ocean. "I mean, that's part of being a family, right?"

His voice caught on "family," but only slightly.

Kirsten nodded, blinking back tears.

He didn't say anything more and they finished filling the dishwasher in silence, while Kirsten thought about what he'd said.

_You were wrong too, Ryan. You said I wasn't like Dawn, but that's not true._

_I'm not that different._

The thought shamed her.

She didn't want to imagine how many times Dawn had promised him never to drink again, only to fail to keep her word.

She didn't want to imagine what it must have been like for him to live through this, and survive, and find another family, only to go through the same thing all over again.

Kirsten vowed, then and there, that she wouldn't disappoint Ryan that way.

She couldn't protect him from the world any more than she could protect Seth, but there was one thing she could do; get sober. Stay sober.

Failure was not an option.

* * *

Two weeks later, she was leading Ryan into a room in a white building, not far from the pier. 

The chairs had been set up facing the stage, reminding her of a classroom—and weren't they here to learn how to live with themselves?

"What are we doing here?" Ryan whispered.

She could see in his eyes that he already knew.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

Once everyone was seated, a woman took the stage and asked if anyone wanted to speak.

Kirsten got to her feet, feeling Ryan's eyes on her; her legs were shaking but when she spoke, her voice was firm.

"Hi, my name is Kirsten and I'm an alcoholic."

* * *

The End 

I think I speak for both Brandy and myself when I say thanks to Helen for this wonderful ending to our story.


End file.
